The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 2: Books 4, 5, 6 and 7 — John Shaqi
The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 2: Books 4, 5, 6 and 7
General
The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volume 2: Books 4, 5, 6 and 7
Epic literature, Sanskrit
Vaisampayana said, “Binding her black, soft, fine, long and faultless
tresses with crisped ends into a knotted braid, Draupadi of black eyes
and sweet smiles, throwing it upon her right shoulders, concealed it by
her cloth. And she wore a single piece of a black and dirty though costly
cloth. And dressing herself as a Sairindhri, she began to wander hither
and thither in seeming affliction. And beholding her wandering, men and
women came to her hastily and addressed her, saying, ‘Who are you? And
what do you seek?’ And she replied, ‘I am a king’s Sairindhri. I desire
to serve any one that will maintain me.’ But beholding her beauty and
dress, and hearing also her speech that was so sweet, the people could
not take her for a maid-servant in search of subsistence. And it came to
pass that while looking this way and that from the terrace, Virata’s
beloved queen, daughter of the king of Kekaya, saw Draupadi. And
beholding her forlorn and clad in a single piece of cloth, the queen
addressed her saying, ‘O beautiful one, who are you, and what do you
seek?’ Thereupon, Draupadi answered her, saying, ‘O foremost of queens, I
am Sairindhri. I will serve anybody that will maintain me.’ Then Sudeshna
said, ‘What you say (regarding your profession) can never be compatible
with so much beauty. (On the contrary) you might well be the mistress of
servants both male and female. Your heels are not prominent, and your
thighs touch each other. And your intelligence is great, and your navel
deep, and your words solemn. And your great toes, and bust and hips, and
back and sides, and toe-nails, and palms are all well-developed. And your
palms, soles, and face are ruddy. And your speech is sweet even as the
voice of the swan. And your hair is beautiful, and your bust shapely, and
you are possessed of the highest grace. And your hips and bust are plump.
And like a Kashmerean mare you are furnished with every auspicious mark.
And your eye-lashes are (beautiful) bent, and your nether-lip is like the
ruddy ground. And your waist is slender, and your neck bears lines that
resemble those of the conch. And your veins are scarcely visible. Indeed,
your countenance is like the full moon, and your eyes resemble the leaves
of the autumnal lotus, and your body is fragrant as the lotus itself.
Verily, in beauty you resemble Sri herself, whose seat is the autumnal
lotus. Tell me, O beautiful damsel, who thou art. Thou canst never be a
maidservant. Art thou a Yakshi, a Goddess, a Gandharvi, or an Apsara? Art
thou the daughter of a celestial, or art thou a female Naga? Art thou the
guardian goddess of some city, a Vidyadhari, or a Kinnari,--or art thou
Rohini herself? Or art thou Alamvusha, or Misrakesi, Pundarika, or
Malini, or the queen of Indra, or of Varuna? Or, art thou the spouse of
Viswakarma, or of the creative Lord himself? Of these goddesses who art
renowned in the celestial regions, who art thou, O graceful one?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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